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He’d missed her. He had. There had never been anyone in his life quite like Whitney. She’d charmed him from the start. And she wasn’t just beautiful; she was ambitious, creative, smart.
She’d been everything he’d wanted. Perfect. But he’d let her go. He’d cut her loose. Why?
Looking at her now, older, more mature, and yet even more beautiful, he struggled to remember why he’d panicked at settling down. The details were fuzzy, just the overall memory of him needing to end things, of needing to escape. Get distance and space.
Whitney suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh! Before I forget, as you know I met with Heath and Josie today. And I know you requested a bank of flat screen TVs for the lobby to broadcast your networks. In the plans, Josie shows them on the center wall so you see them the moment you enter the building, but I think it’s too obvious. Are you open to other ideas?”
“I’m giving you free rein.”
“You say that now, until you’re disappointed.”
He grinned, amused, because it was true. “What would you do?”
“Set them in the floor, like this,” she said, tracing shapes on the wooden tabletop. “Here’s the entrance. This is the wall opposite where Josie thought the TVs should go. I think we put them here, here, and here, in a line just outside the back of the big couch and then perhaps another two behind the shorter end of the sectional. People can still see the screens but the TVs won’t dominate your headquarters and they won’t distract from other work being done.”
“Won’t they be lost in the floor?”
“No one is going to sit in your lobby and watch TV. They’re there to make a statement, and we’ll make sure they remain a key element in the design, but you’re more than cable networks. You’re broadband, publishing, and radio, and whatever else you choose to do next.”
“You’ve run this by Heath?”
She nodded. “We talked just a bit ago on the phone. I think it was right after you left the house. But Heath had run some numbers for me and it won’t be that much more. You already had to replace the floor as the original wooden planks are rotten, and so instead of laying down stone or new hardwood, we discussed poured concrete. It’d be sleek and modern and seriously cool.”
“Floor wouldn’t be too heavy?”
“Not with the new lightweight aggregate. It’s really impressive material, great for heating and insulation, and it can also be colored or stained then sealed making it very durable.”
“I like it.”
“Heath likes it, too. He can run a hot water radiant floor heating system beneath the concrete. He’d have access from the basement should repairs be necessary. I think he told you that a hot water radiant heater is more expensive than electric, but you’re going to save a lot in electric bills. And the building will be toasty, which should make your staff happy.”
“Done. Sold.”
“Good.” She reached for her coffee and took a sip. “I think you will be happy, too,” she added, looking at him from over the rim of the cup. “Marietta winters are colder than Denver winters. Why throw away money on high electricity bills?”
Her eyes were a warm golden brown and beautiful. With her pale oval face and high cheekbones and full lips she really did look like Belle.
“What would make me happy,” he said, “is hearing that you’ve decided to stay on as Creative Director. I don’t want to see you leave. You’re a big part of the company. You’re really good and very valuable—”
“Cormac.”
“What?”
He could see she was struggling to choose her words, and he wasn’t sure why she felt as if she couldn’t be candid with him. He certainly had always been straightforward with her.
“I’m in the process of job interviewing. I’ve had a couple offers now. Decent salary and benefits. But neither was quite right. One was with a big non-denominational church that does a weekly televised service and was looking for a media manager. The other was an educational publisher.”
“You’re speaking of both in past tense. You turned them down.”
“I did. Neither one was right, but if the right one does come along, I’m going to take it.” Her gaze met his again and held. “I don’t regret working for Sheenan Media for the past eight years, but I’m not growing anymore. I’m just kind of stuck. And while I love what you’re doing for Daisy—and fully support your decision to move here—I need to think about what’s best for me.” Her lips curved but her expression was sad, even wistful. “And as much as I love Daisy, and will always love Daisy, and would like to remain in her life, I’m not her family.”
“Whitney—”
She lifted a hand, stopping him. “I’m not saying that to upset you or to fight with you. I love Daisy. I will always be her godmother, and while I’m here I’d like to have a regular Daisy-day, where she and I do something fun together, but I need more than a weekly date with Daisy. You have more than that. You two are a family, and someday you’ll marry and have more children and Daisy will have younger brothers and sisters and it’s going to be good for her. I’m excited for her. So please forgive me if it’s selfish, but I need something for me. I need to have my own family…marriage…babies… and I’m not going to get that here in Marietta.”
“You might.”
“No, I won’t. Not when my boyfriend lives in Denver.”
Chapter Seven
‡
Cormac couldn’t get Whitney’s words out of his head as he exited the Graff and headed across the street for the hotel parking lot.
She had a boyfriend.
He didn’t know why he was so shocked by the news. She was beautiful, and smart, and successful. Of course she’d have a boyfriend, and it made sense that she’d want to return to Denver where her boyfriend lived.
But the news didn’t sit well with him and he didn’t know why. He was the one who’d broken it off with her all those years ago. He was the one who’d set her free. He should be happy that she was with someone who cared about her…
Except that he wasn’t.
And it hadn’t crossed his mind that asking her to go to Marietta might mean she was leaving someone behind. She’d never hinted that there was anyone she was leaving behind—
No, not true. She did say her life was in Denver. Denver was home.
If that was a reference to having a boyfriend it was fairly cryptic, but he understood why she’d be vague. They’d agreed years ago to keep the personal and professional separate so of course she wasn’t going to confide in him about her life outside work.
But it jarred him, hearing that she was hoping to marry and have kids. It also jarred him hearing her say that one day Cormac would marry and his new wife would become Daisy’s mother.
He couldn’t picture anyone but Whitney being Daisy’s mother—
He stopped himself there.
He wouldn’t continue along that path. These thoughts were nonsensical and even a little bit dangerous.
*
Okay, maybe that was stretching things a bit, Whitney thought, stepping onto the treadmill in the hotel gym, thinking what she needed was a good run to clear her head.
Jason wasn’t exactly her boyfriend. They’d only had a dozen dates but Cormac didn’t need to know that, and it’s not as if things with Jason couldn’t progress in the right direction if she gave him more of a green light. He’d indicated more than once that he was into her, possibly seriously into her, but she was the one uncertain. She was the one insisting they take things slow.
Whitney did not date a lot, and when she did, she struggled forming new romantic relationships. She was just so cautious now. She didn’t just dive in headfirst anymore, but took her time—a lot of time—wanting to be sure they were truly compatible. However, very few relationships stood up to such close, critical inspection and Whitney would end it.
She’d told herself that she ended the relationships because they weren’t right, but maybe she was ending them because she was afraid of getting hurt.
/> Maybe she needed to take more risks…put her heart out there.
Because she did want more. What she said to Cormac in the bar was one hundred percent true. She did want a husband and children. Not necessarily now, today, but someday and she wasn’t going to find that husband if she kept hiding.
Or living in Cormac’s backyard.
*
Cormac was the last to arrive at Trey and McKenna’s. Brock, Harley, the twins and the baby were already there. Troy and Taylor were there, too, and Taylor was obviously expecting, her pregnancy bump quite pronounced.
Cormac greeted his brothers, kissed his sisters-in-law, and did high fives and shoulder bumps with his niece and nephews.
Daisy had gravitated to thirteen-year-old Molly and was talking her ear off. Molly, thankfully, didn’t seem to mind.
“You have good kids,” Cormac said to Brock who was lounging against one of the kitchen counters while Harley, McKenna and Taylor organized dinner.
“Thank you,” he answered. “How are you doing?”
“All right.” Cormac took the cold beer Trey offered. “Glad to be here. It’s good to be back.”
McKenna glanced up from the oven where she’d just checked the temperature on the big roast. “You guys want to head into another room and give us girls some space?”
“Sure.” Trey shepherded them out of the kitchen, leading them to the family room where the fire was blazing. Brock sat down in one of the leather armchairs but Trey, Troy and Cormac all remained standing.
“How is that teacher doing? The one that was shot at Daisy’s school?” Troy asked.
“Still in the hospital, but she’s stable,” Cormac answered.
“And Daisy? How is she?”
“She’s had those nightmares I was telling you about, but otherwise I think she’s okay.”
“Crazy world we live in,” Brock said quietly.
“Yeah,” Cormac agreed.
The sound of quarreling voices down the hall caught their attention and once Trey and Brock identified the voices as their boys, they left to settle the argument, leaving Cormac and Troy alone.
